


These Exiled Years

by Dragomir



Series: Suffer the Children [2]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Asthma, Attempted Murder, Child Abuse, Childhood, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Harm to Children, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Physical Abuse, Siblings, things are looking up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragomir/pseuds/Dragomir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny's used to not having anyone care about him and Charlie, but he really wants the Captain to care about them. It'll all work out eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Exiled Years

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Steph_Schell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph_Schell/gifts).



> I promised Steph this would be out earlier today, but school interfered.
> 
> Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.

_One_

When daddy left, Danny was almost seven years old. Charlie told him that daddy had promised to be back in a week. A week was _so_ long… But Charlie was smart, and Charlie said that daddy would _never_ break a promise so he'd come back. Except…except Charlie must not have heard daddy say it right, because he never came back.

Mr. Caleb looked after them, though. He was okay. Kind of…

Mostly, though, he was mean and scary and loud. Danny hated going to work every day, because Mr. Caleb sometimes kicked him. Danny wanted his daddy to come home. Then he wouldn't have to scrub floors every day, or listen to Charlie cry all the time.

Charlie was smart, though. If she said Mr. Caleb would be nice to them, then he would be. It was just… It was taking a long time. Danny hoped it would get better soon.

He wanted his daddy and mommy.

_Two_

Danny curled up under one of the stalls, wheezing shallowly. He was supposed to be carrying baskets of food around for the big people from the city, but he couldn't. It was hard, and dusty, and hot. And his asthma was acting up, and he really _would_ go back to work when it stopped. He promised. It just hurt to breathe, and Charlie wasn't there to hold his hand and make it better.

Every time he had an asthma attack without her, one of the big people hit him, or slapped him, or—once—kicked him so hard he threw up. Danny was miserable. He tried _really_ hard not to have an attack, honest. It was just really dusty today, and he couldn't breath.

The seven-year-old bit his lip so he didn't start crying when Mr. John, one of Mr. Caleb's friends, pulled him out from under the stall. Mr. John looked _really_ mad. That was usually a bad sign. Since it was market day, though… Well, maybe he'd only get slapped a few times, instead of getting hit and kicked like usual. He wasn't _trying_ to avoid his chores…

Mr. John dragged him away from the village square and knelt down, pulling Danny over his knee for a spanking. Danny cried, sobbing into Mr. John's big hand to muffle the noise.

He went back to work, wobbling on unsteady legs and sniffing back tears.

_Three_

When The Captain arrived, Danny knew things were going to change. Usually, the Militia came twice a year. Danny liked it when they came, because it meant no chores and he and Charlie could nap all day. But The Captain was going to change all of that, and he wasn't sure it was such a good thing. Not really.

Danny had been skiving off chores the day the new Militia man arrived. Usually, the garrison left the bins unattended and he could sneak food from there. They threw out perfectly good apples and other fruits, and occasionally strips of beef that were too tough for anyone else to eat. As far as Danny was concerned, food was food. He and his big sister had to eat something. Charlie didn't really approve of him skiving off to get food, but she didn't complain. It was that or go hungry. Danny could take the punishments.

Except this time had been different. Danny knew he shouldn't have snuck around while there were soldiers milling about, shouting and stomping around and being professional and scary. But there had been a pack on the back of a wagon, and it had been _so_ tempting…

The last commander of the garrison had been friendly with Mr. Caleb. Kind of. They mostly ignored each other. Danny hadn't liked him, though. He was really loud, and he slapped people around, even when they hadn't done anything wrong. Mr. Caleb's wife said he was drunk. Danny still didn't like him.

This one, though… The eight-year-old kind of liked the new commander. The Captain was nice. He'd made Danny take his shirt off and just stared at him for a few minutes. Danny had almost burst into tears, because he only ever had to take his clothes off for the big people if he was _really_ bad and had to be called upstairs. Except the Captain just sighed and gave him the pack.

And a stern warning to not steal from the Militia again.

Danny checked the pack again once he was out of sight. Skiving off chores had been _really_ worth it.

Charlie cried when he gave her the bag of food and gave him a big hug.

_Four_

Danny tried really hard not to get called upstairs. He did.

Sometimes, though…

He tried really hard. He made up for the chores he missed, and did really well on all of them. He cleaned as hard as he could, and dug gardens for the ladies, and hauled water and did _so much_. He really tried. He did. There were so many things he had to do though, and he got so tired, and it only got worse when his asthma acted up.

That was when he got called upstairs. He fought back once. Mr. Caleb wrapped his hands around Danny's throat until he stopped fighting, though.

Danny wished him and Charlie weren't Mathesons. Maybe then Mr. Caleb would be nicer to them. If they weren't Mathesons, maybe Mr. Caleb would let them play with the other children, and they wouldn't be in so much trouble all the time.

Getting called upstairs was a very bad thing.

Daddy _had_ to come home soon. Charlie promised he would. And then he wouldn't have to go upstairs again, because daddy would kill Mr. Caleb.

Daddy _had_ to come home…

_Five_

The Captain was a sneaky jerk.

Danny still liked him, though. The Captain was nice enough, but he was still a sneaky jerk. Danny had snuck back into the Militia compound (he was really little and could fit under the fence at the very back of the compound) to get food. The Militia guards at the kitchen didn't put a watch on the bins, and the cooks sometimes threw out perfectly good food. But Danny wasn't going to complain; food was food.

That was where the Captain had become a sneaky jerk. Danny had tried hard not to take anything that would be missed, but… Well, the Captain had noticed. He'd been waiting. Danny nursed his wrist and sat in front of the Captain's desk, staring at the floor. He was in _big_ trouble. Maybe they'd conscript him…and Charlie too. That would be nice. Conscripts got to join the Militia early, and the Militia had good food. Danny didn't understand why being a conscript was bad. _He'd_ like it. But if the village thought it was bad…

The Captain just stared at him and the bag Danny had been using to hold his scraps. There was hardtack, and some strips of overcooked, extremely tough beef, and two apples that weren't really rotted. Not all the way, anyways. The Captain sighed.

"What am I supposed to do with you?"

Danny fidgeted. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I won't do it again."

The Captain held out a small bag. "See that you don't," he said sternly. Danny guessed that he wasn't really serious. He was smiling with his eyes. Danny took the bag and crept out of the office, clutching it to his chest. He'd only been caught the first time when he'd stolen the Captain's bag of rations for _one whole day_ , but he'd gotten away with it. This was the first time he'd gotten food _from_ the Captain.

The beating he got from Mr. Caleb the next day, for not doing his chores and for making his sister do them for him, was worth it.

And _he_ still had sugar, and Mr. Caleb _didn't_.

_Six_

Danny crawled closer to the wall of Mr. Aaron's house, trying hard not to cry. Only babies cried, and he _wasn't_ a baby. He _wasn't_. The other boys were just a bit…rough. Mr. Caleb said him and Charlie could have the day off, and then the boys had invited him to play.

He'd so wanted to be included. They'd gone down to the creek, and Danny had been having a _lot_ of fun. The older boys had even taught him how to catch fish with his bare hands. He was really good at that. Then he'd done something wrong. Danny didn't know what he'd done. The older boys had grabbed him and forced his head under the creak, and then pulled him out when he stopped struggling. He'd coughed and coughed and started crying. They'd called him a baby and started kicking and stomping on him, and he'd tried to apologize for making them mad. He'd tried so hard…

His wrist really hurt. It was probably broken, again. He still needed to be able to do his chores, though, so he'd just have to wrap it tight in one of the old blankets later. Danny didn't want to play with the other boys anymore. He'd just wanted to know what being accepted and loved and normal was like.

Danny curled up next to the bins outside Mr. Aaron's house, cradling his wrist close to his chest. His chest really hurt too, and he couldn't breathe. Being wet was the least of his problems, compared to having an asthma attack. That was probably why he'd gotten beat up. The boys had probably heard his lungs constricting, and they'd found out he was a freak and they beat him up because he wasn't right.

Charlie thought he was okay, though. She'd take care of him. Just as soon as she finished doing Mr. Aaron's laundry. (It was her turn today. He'd made both of them breakfast too; Charlie had won the coin toss to see who got to stay and be good and help him clean up.)

As soon as Charlie found him, she'd take care of him, like always. She always took care of him. She was a good big sister.

Danny sobbed quietly until Charlie found him around dusk.

_Seven_

His birthday was nothing to talk about, as usual. Danny was ten now. He was big. Kind of.

He _hated_ being born in winter. It was always cold and miserable and he never had good food for his birthday like Charlie did, because she was born around spring taxes. She was lucky. He tried really hard not to complain, though. She tried really hard and took care of him. He was lucky she was there, or Mr. Caleb would probably have killed him. Charlie made sure he was able to keep breathing when he had an asthma attack, and she was good at finding food.

It still wasn't fair, though.

His chores were always worse on his birthday. Danny _hated_ lugging heavy buckets of boiling water from peoples' kitchens up to their bathtubs so they could have baths, or scrubbing their floors while they ate lots of good food that he didn't even get scraps of. It wasn't fair. Sometimes, when he had a lull in his chores, Danny liked to curl up in a corner and pretend that, if he closed his eyes long enough, he'd open them and his daddy and mommy would be there with presents for him and Charlie, and Mr. Caleb and the rest of the big people in the village wouldn't be able to hurt him and his big sister anymore.

But that was stupid, because daddy had broken his promise. Danny was going to keep hoping that his daddy came home, like Charlie said, because it was better than nothing. If daddy came home, it meant that everything him and Charlie had gone through wasn't for nothing. Daddy would tell them they'd done a good job, and he'd give the hugs and then take them to Chicago. A lot of good food came from Chicago, so it _had_ to be a good place. Otherwise, daddy wouldn't have gone there.

He sighed and pulled the brush out of the bucket of soapy water and began scrubbing the floor. His knuckles were cracked and bleeding again, and the water wasn't helping. It also wasn't helping that he was _really_ thirsty, and the only way he was getting anything to eat or drink was if he finished cleaning Mr. Thomas's house. Mr. Thomas's daughter, Joan, was mean. If she was there, Danny knew he wouldn't get any chores done.

She'd kicked Charlie because Charlie had gotten sick and fell asleep while working on her new dress. Then her daddy had beaten Charlie for falling asleep on Joan's new dress, and…

Well, Joan was mean. And not being Charlie wasn't going to help.

Birthdays stunk.

_Eight_

Danny screamed and kicked, wriggling in the big man's grip. He hadn't done anything wrong, honest! The man smacked him hard and Danny stopped struggling, eyes wide in fear. It was market day again, and he had to carry large baskets of food. He'd tripped and the corn had gone spilling everywhere. He'd tried hard to get it all back in the basket before anyone noticed, but it hadn't worked. Danny had to admit, though, that he kinda might deserve the beating—he'd take an ear of corn that was starting to rot and had worms. It wasn't even supposed to be in the basket, and he'd hoped no one would mind…

But the man who'd bought the basket wasn't happy with him. Danny began crying when he saw Mr. Caleb looking at him, hands on his hips and a dirty look on his face. The man holding him dragged him over, giving the ten-year-old a good smack on the back of his head when he tried to resist being dragged over. Mr. Caleb looked down at him, still angry.

"This brat is a little thief," the man growled, shaking Danny. Danny sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He was going to be in so much trouble… It wasn't fair. It was just one stupid ear of corn. Him and Charlie hadn't had anything good to eat in a few days—they'd had two pieces of stale bread in the past week, and he'd just wanted something _better_ for dinner… Mr. Caleb never fed them on market days. It wasn't fair.

"I'll take care of it," Mr. Caleb promised. He grabbed Danny's wrist and dragged him away, not even caring that Danny was begging him not to grip so tight. "Go. Upstairs. Right. Now," Mr. Caleb hissed.

Danny broke down crying, collapsing to his knees on the front porch as he bawled. He _was_ a stupid baby, but he was scared. He didn't want to go upstairs. He hadn't been bad! Really! He'd only wanted something good to have for dinner for him and Charlie tonight… It was only one ear of rotting corn…

Mr. Caleb kicked him hard in the ribs and Danny fell onto his side, wheezing and clutching his ribs. Mr. Caleb kicked him towards the door and Danny crawled towards it, still holding his ribs and crying. He didn't want to. He was scared…

Danny wished the Captain would come find him. The Captain would kill Mr. Caleb and then take him and Charlie away. Him and Charlie could clean for the Captain, and make sure his boots were always clean… The Captain would care about them. And they'd have food every day.

The Captain would look after them. Maybe.

Someone had to.

Didn't they?

_Nine_

Danny fidgeted as he and Charlie sat across from the Captain. Mr. Caleb had tried to hide them again when the Militia came to get taxes, but the Captain had seen them first. Danny had tried hard to make sure the Captain didn't find out where they lived. It would be bad. Mr. Caleb would hurt him and Charlie. A lot. A lot worse than usual, definitely. He'd _tried_ …

The Captain had taken up residence in Mr. Caleb's common room, and his soldiers were tramping in and out and dirtying up the floors as they delivered reports. Mr. Caleb's wife was standing in a corner, looking scared. Danny thought it was kind of funny, and he'd have giggled, except then she'd hurt him and Charlie both after the Captain left. The Captain was reading a report on the taxes and sipping tea out of the _really_ nice cups Mr. Caleb's wife kept locked in a cupboard that Charlie and Danny weren't allowed to even _look_ at if they didn't want to get sent _upstairs_ so Mr. Caleb could punish them for not working hard enough or doing something wrong.

Tax day was supposed to be the day that him and Charlie were allowed to relax and take lots of naps and get food that was good and that there was a lot of. They were supposed to be in the basement, in their corner. He and Charlie had even brought blankets this year, so they didn't get cold and so his asthma didn't act up. Sometimes Mr. Caleb let them stay at home on tax days, so no one saw them, but Danny and Charlie usually came. If they did, Mr. Caleb _had_ to be nice to them, and they always got dinner too. It wasn't always a _lot_ of food, but to him and his big sister, it was delicious and amazing and good and all sorts of things. It was _food_ , and there was _way_ more than they usually got to eat, ever.

This one was different. The Captain was why. Danny kicked his feet idly against the sofa, trying _really_ hard not to fidget too much. There was a plate of sweet bread drizzled with honey on the table separating him and Charlie from the Captain, but he was _way_ to nervous to take one. The Captain might not like him anymore if he was greedy and took a piece for him and Charlie. Danny wanted the Captain to like him.

He was almost relieved when the Captain stood up and left, still holding his stack of reports. Then the Captain started yelling at someone. Charlie instinctively pulled him closer to her, and Danny wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. The Captain was mad—he was probably mad at them, wasn't he?

Danny was pretty sure he'd die if the Captain was mad at him and Charlie.

The Captain cared about them. Kind of.

He _had_ to.

Didn't he?

_Ten_

The Captain was writing in his notebook. Danny could hear him muttering under his breath. He wanted to go home. It was scary.

He wanted to go home, and hide, and never come out again. He was scared. The Captain was in a _really_ bad mood, like Mr. Caleb was when he ordered him or Charlie to go upstairs because they'd done something _really_ bad. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to go home.

Danny fidgeted restlessly, looking at the door as often as he thought he could get away with. He wanted Charlie. She was smart. She'd know what to do. But Charlie was doing chores for Mr. John, and then she had to help Joan make herself pretty before her boyfriend (who was a stupid jerk) came to take her somewhere again. Charlie was the one who should have a boyfriend and be pretty. Not stupid, mean Joan. Danny thought Joan was evil. …not that he'd say that out loud; Joan _belonged_ and he didn't, which meant that he'd get in trouble for saying something bad.

When he got home, he'd have to do a lot of chores. Mr. Caleb's floor and windows still needed to be cleaned, and he had to weed Mrs. Frederick's garden again. She hit him with her cane if he didn't get it done on time. Her friends, like Mr. Caleb's wife, and Mrs. Gray (a lady who was like a _million_ years old), also liked hitting him. Mrs. Gray's son hit him more than Mrs. Gray, but Danny still knew he had to be careful not to make _any_ noise while doing chores or Mrs. Gray would beat him with the broom until he cried.

The Captain wasn't going to let him go in time to get his chores done, though. But he'd gotten lunch, and he'd even managed to hide the bread and the apples in his bag when the Captain wasn't looking. So it wasn't all bad. He still wished Charlie was here. She was smart. Charlie could make the Captain let them go so they could get their chores done so they didn't get beaten tomorrow when they showed up again. Well, _he_ was the one who was going to get beaten, but he could survive it. Kind of.

Danny fell asleep after a while. The Captain shook him awake when the lamps were lit, making Danny squeak in terror. He curled up, tensing for a blow that never came. The Captain just gave him a sad look and patted him on the shoulder. Danny relaxed as the Captain pulled a thick blanket over his shoulders and dozed back off.

He was safe, just for a little bit.

It was nice…

_Eleven_

Danny screamed, the sound muffled by the pillow he'd buried his face in. Mr. Caleb was _really_ mad with him. He wished he hadn't gone with the Captain yesterday. He should have stayed at the village and done his chores. Charlie had gotten beaten up yesterday by Mr. Caleb for letting him leave without supervision from one of the big people in the village. Danny had given her both apples he'd saved back from his lunch, not sure how he was supposed to apologize. It was his fault he was so stupid and slow and couldn't do his chores, and it was his fault Charlie kept getting hurt. If he wasn't so stupid…

He tensed up as he heard the belt whistle through the air and shrieked in pain, sobbing with renewed tears as it cracked against the back of his thighs. He'd tried to do his chores really well this morning. He really had. Honest. Except Mr. Caleb had called him stupid and worthless and had sent him _upstairs_. Danny didn't like going upstairs. It scared him.

The ten-year-old cried and hugged the pillow to his chest, whimpering every time the mattress moved. He wanted to die. Maybe then Charlie wouldn't have to protect someone who was stupid and weak like him, and she'd get to go join the Militia like she wanted to. She was smart, and they'd love her. He wouldn't be accepted.

He wanted to die.

Mr. Caleb patted his back and left after ordering him to clean up the mess.

Danny struggled upright, tears pouring down his face as he began his chores. Maybe if he was good, Mr. Caleb would see that he was sincere about being sorry.

Everything hurt so bad…

_Twelve_

Danny hated horses. They were loud and noisy and made a terrible mess. They also made his asthma really bad. If he didn't have asthma, Danny was pretty sure he'd like them. The Militia had to ride horses. If he wanted to join the Militia, he had to get over not liking horses. The Captain rode a big brown horse that was actually quite sweet and gentle—at least with him and Charlie and the Captain. Danny had seen the horse kick a soldier halfway across the stables once.

There were a lot of horses in the village today. Danny thought it was weird. It wasn't tax day—that had been _weeks_ ago, and it was just…weird. Charlie was scared too. None of the Militia soldiers here were from the garrison in town. Danny stuck close to Charlie's side, way back in a corner of Mr. Caleb's kitchen. As soon as they'd seen the soldiers, Mr. Caleb had stormed into the house and told them to stay out of sight and stay quiet or he'd beat them. The siblings hid in their corner, clutching their brushes. As soon as the soldiers left, they'd have to clean the floor extra hard again.

They wanted the soldiers to leave soon. Mr. Caleb's wife was making a meat pie, and if they finished their chores quickly—before the pie was done—they'd get a whole slice to share. Danny's mouth was watering. The soldiers had to leave soon. He was hungry. Not as hungry as Charlie, though—at least his stomach wasn't growling.

Then the door slammed open and soldiers stormed into the common rooms. Charlie and Danny knew they had to stay out of sight, so they did the only thing they knew.

They ran to Aaron's house to hide.

**Author's Note:**

> So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Are things looking up for the siblings or is it about to go south in the worst way? Drop a line and let me know.


End file.
